


Domesticated

by Cata931



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Abandonment, Akechi Goro Needs a Hug, Akechi Goro is Bad at Feelings, Akechi Goro is a SAD BOI, Akechi is a GRUMPY BOI, Akira is an Emotional Support Boyfriend, Alcohol, Angst, Banter, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Characters Playing Animal Crossing Game(s), Childhood Trauma, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Drinking & Talking, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Isolation, M/M, Minor Violence, Post-Reveal Akechi, References to Depression, References to Prostitution, Slice of Life, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, There's A Tag For That, These tags just keep on coming don't they, Verbal Abuse, Violence, because apparently, playful banter, quarantine au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cata931/pseuds/Cata931
Summary: Akechi is not upholding his facades from before 11/20 in this fic, so be warned, Here Be Spoilers.----------After a nation-wide call to shelter in place, Akechi and Akira find themselves living a domestic life together in Cafe LeBlanc. Akechi is stir-crazy, and it shows. Akira attempts to ease Akechi's troubles in any way he can.----------I just wanted to write a quarantine fic about these two idiots. This fic is ongoing, so rating, tags and description are subject to changes. (Read as, there WILL be smut later)
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 172





	1. Quarantined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @aww_beans on Twitter posted a status joking that the next round of AO3 fics were going to be about quarantined characters, and I took that way too seriously. I figure now is as good a time as any to write and post the fanfic no one asked for or wanted, but I'm obnoxious and I'm very passionate about this ship. Enjoy~

Akechi groaned in displeasure.

Akechi had been groaning in displeasure for weeks.

Akira had been keeping count of exactly how many times Akechi had groaned, sighed, or otherwise hummed thoughtfully with distaste seething in his voice that day. He had done so exactly forty-three times since waking up, and he only just finished his breakfast.

Akira noted that of the forty-three times he had expressed disdain for the situation he'd found himself in, Akechi had done so six times whilst waking up (modest, given the circumstances), seventeen times during his shower (lasting only fifteen minutes. Again, very modest considering Akechi was a perfectionist in all aspects), five times whilst dressing himself, four more times whilst fiddling with his hair (likely due to the dissatisfaction of it having grown out), and finally, eleven times during his meal of freshly brewed coffee and curry leftovers from the night prior.

Akechi sighed deeply. Forty-four.

“I want something sweet,” Akechi said pointedly, “Not some cheap store-bought shit, but something actually worth eating.”

“Would you like me to call Haru for you?” Akira suggested, “She probably has access to all kinds of sweets.”

Akechi yawned, sighing deeply again. A tentative forty-five. The dark circles beginning to form under Akechi's eyes were a dead giveaway that he'd not been sleeping well.

“Do you suppose it's worth the risk of exposure for any of us?” Akechi rested his chin on his hand, a rare sight as he gazed off at nothing in particular, “It's a passing whim, nothing more.”

“It's important to look after one's mental health during quarantine,” Akira noted, “If sweets will make you happy, I'll do anything to get them for you.”

“Reckless as always,” Akechi muttered, taking a sip of coffee before sighing. Forty-six? “You also speak as though I have any mental health to take care of. Or happiness to speak of.”

“You're not happy here?”

Akechi groaned. Forty-seven.

“I'm glad that I'm not alone, at least,” Akechi pointed out, “I don't know where I'd be right now if I wasn't with you. I'm grateful, of course, but...”

“You'd rather not be holed up inside?”

“Yes,” Akechi sighed again. Akira was going to lose track at this rate, “Domestic life doesn't suit me. I get so stir crazy that it drives me mad. Even though the outside world is dismal at best, I do quite miss some aspects of it. The jazz club in Kichijoji, for example. The atmosphere was nice, and the food and drinks were especially pleasing.”

“Are you admitting to secretly being a lush?” Akira cracked a smile.

“Of course not!” Akechi scolded, “I'm merely reminiscing.”

“Note to self,” Akira traced his fingertip over his palm, imitating the motion of writing, “Have. Haru. Bring. Supplies. For special. Cocktails.”

A low grumble bubbled in Akechi's throat. The brunette glared daggers at the raven, only spurning a hearty chuckle from his counterpart.

“Akechi. Is. Grumpy. Needs. Al-co-hol. There, got it all down,” Akira beamed playfully.

“You know, I almost regret not killing you when I had the chance.”

“Oof, you wound me with your words,” Akira feigned agony, “I think I might be dying now.”

“I'll throw you outside, don't test me.”

“But then who's going to rail you into the mattress on those lonely nights without me?”

“I have connections.”

“You're also full of shit,” Akira laughed, pulling out his phone and quickly typing away.

“What are you doing?” Akechi questioned.

“I'm getting you sweets. What do you want?”

“Y-You're-!” Akechi cut himself off, leaning back in his seat in what Akira assumed was complacent defeat. Akechi held his coffee cup to his face, tearing his eyes away from Akira, “Melon pan.”

Akira cocked an eyebrow, “Only that?”

Akechi nodded, trying his best not to look at the man sat in the booth across from him. After an uncomfortably long silence, Akechi glanced over at Akira and sighed deeply.

“I want melon pan, cornets, mont blanc, castella, taiyaki, and fresh wheat bread with chocolate filling.”

“That's a lot of bread,” Akira remarked.

“I'm not going to eat it all at once,” Akechi muttered, sipping his coffee, “I'm not a glutton.”

“I'm surprised that you don't want any coffee jelly this time.”

“Oh? Is that you offering to make me some?” Akechi smiled sweetly. Deceptively so. His voice reflected the same sing-songy tone he bore before dropping his facade of innocence, “In that case, tell Haru to bring some agar agar as well.”

“You're aware that you don't have to manipulate me to get what you want, right?” Akira's eyes narrowed, his voice deadpan and nearly accusatory. Akechi placed his coffee next to his long forgotten plate, humming thoughtfully.

“I don't think I'd call this manipulation,” Akechi stared deep into Akira's eyes, his crimson orbs were soft around the edges, nigh effeminate and coy when coupled with the half smile that crept across his face. Akira knew that exact expression from the times before when Akechi was still living his double life. Akechi had probably practiced that look thousands of times until it was perfect, and only seemed to pull it out when he wanted something.

“What would you have me call it, then?”

Akira hadn't noticed Akechi was leaning forward until he was kneeling on the booth, forearms propped on the table between them, slowly inching closer to the raven.

“I'm simply appealing to your better judgment, Akira-kun,” Akechi had one knee on the table now, outstretching his hand to cup Akira's cheek. Akira's demeanor softened significantly, morphing into a subtle desire as he leaned into Akechi's touch. God, Akechi's hands were soft. Akechi himself seemed so warm and inviting, and Akira couldn't help turning his head to place a gentle kiss on Akechi's palm.

“It seems you're very easily persuaded in any case,” Akechi chuckled, dragging the pad of his thumb to rest softly on Akira's bottom lip. Akechi's eyes were fixated on Akira's lips, and Akira was all too willing to let Akechi do as he pleased. At the very least, Akechi wasn't moping anymore, even if he was putting on this act to intentionally tease Akira into submission to... make jelly? Akira didn't care about the excuse anymore. All that mattered in that moment was that the tip of Akechi's nose was brushing against his own, while their lips hovered dangerously close to each other. The whole situation was, in a word, intoxicating, and yet...

“You're forgetting one major flaw in your argument, Akechi.”

“Oh?” Akechi purred against Akira's lips. God, what he's doing should be illegal, “ And what might that be, Akira-kun?”

Akira held up his phone, toggling it back and forth for emphasis, “I still need to message Haru, or you won't get any sweets. No matter how much you tempt me.”

Akechi's expression quickly changed to a pout, eyes narrowing in mild annoyance. Akira smirked and stole a quick peck on the lips before brushing his fingers through Akechi's hair affectionately and leaning back to finish typing his message to Haru.

“Do you still want some agar agar?”

Akechi nodded. Akira nudged his glasses up and smiled, “Alright, aaaaand... Sent.”

Akechi hadn't moved from his spot on the table. Frozen in... Indignation?

“As much as I adore your rebelliousness, Sojiro would be pissed if he saw you on his table.”

“Tch...”

“Unless you'd care to continue where we left off?” It was Akira's turn for a sing-songy voice, “I'd love to see your idea of gratitude for feeding your addictions.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Akechi seethed. Akira kissed his cheek, smiling.

“I love you too~”


	2. After All pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a song fic. (Does anyone remember those? Are song fics still a thing? Am I revealing my age at all?)
> 
> Go listen to the song, "After All" by Christine Ebersole before this chapter, and then again after the next two chapters. (Which hopefully won't be as angsty as this one is, but should be coming out fairly soon) I loosely based the plot of this chapter and the next two on the narrative, but with a much darker spin.
> 
> Also, apologies for the length. I just started typing and it got so out of control that I had to split what I was hoping would just be one chapter into two. Both are still lengthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOOOO BOY, this one got a bit dark, so time for trigger warnings.
> 
> TW: Mentions of suicide and suicidal ideations, avoidance of self-harm, flashbacks, some verbal abuse, abandonment, self-loathing
> 
> Most of these are fairly minor, BUT, I've added asterisks (***) before and after the part that I'm certain will upset some people.
> 
> If anyone is reading this and can think of any other warnings I should add, please feel free to write me a message and I'll add it.

“Mommy, Mommy! Look at me!” the overly excited brunette tugged on in the edge of his mother's apron while she stood in front of the stove. She paused to look down at the boy next to her, a long towel tied around his neck, falling over his shoulders in a rather lopsided manner. He held his favorite toy pistol in his left hand as he beamed happily up at her, “What do you think, Mommy?”

“Well, aren't you a handsome superhero?” the woman smiled.

“Silly Mommy,” the boy giggled, “I'm a prince!”

“Ah, of course,” the woman affectionately rubbed the top of the boy's head, “How could I not see it before? You're certainly the most dashing of princes.”

“Mhm!” the boy nodded excitedly. He held up his pistol in both hands, aiming at nothing in particular, “I'm gonna get rid of all the bad guys and whisk you away to a biiig palace, Mommy! Then we can live happily ever after!”

“Bad guys?” the woman seemed caught off guard, but nonetheless, a hint of sadness invaded in her voice.

“Mhm,” the boy nodded, “Anyone who hurts my mommy is a bad guy. You're the best mommy to ever exist in the whole universe, and I want to protect you. Just like the princes in the movies!”

The woman couldn't help but smile at the boy, eyes soft and kind. She gave the pot on the stove a quick stir before kneeling in front of the boy, pulling him into a warm embrace.

“You're already the best prince a woman could ask for.”

The boy eagerly hugged her back tightly. The woman brushed her fingers through the back of the boys hair. It was soft just like hers, splayed haphazardly in all directions. He hummed softly, pleased enough to just be close to her. The feeling of being held in her arms, the feel of her warm hands on his head, it must have been what heaven felt like. He often wondered if she had felt the same about holding him, but the thought never bothered him much, as she always seemed more than happy to be with him. It overjoyed him. Everything about this moment was perfect. He wanted it to last forever.

“I love you so much, Mommy.”

“I love you too, Goro.”

She held him for a few moments longer before gently pulling away, kissing his forehead.

“I'm making purin for dessert tonight,” she stood up and returned to the food on the stove, “But only for little princes that have set the table and gotten in their pajamas.”

The boy gasped and bounced happily on his heels, “Of course! I'll get ready~”

With that, he ran off to the other side of the apartment. The woman smiled as she watched him go.

“Such a diligent and responsible boy,” she toyed with the end of her braid, draped over her shoulder.

 _I'm truly blessed to have a son like him,_ she thought to herself. Despite this, a twinge of sadness pulled at her heart. She pushed the feeling down and returned to tending the soup.

\------------------------------

“I can't believe you actually had Haru bring booze,” Akechi was pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, “I'm not an alcoholic, Akira.”

“Call it intuition,” Akira said, pulling groceries out of the paper bag that Haru dropped off at the doorstep.

“I resent that statement.”

“What I mean is that you've seemed tense,” Akira continued, “I'm not trying to turn you into a drunkard. I just wanted to do something small to ease your worries, relax you a little.”

“You only just became legal drinking age,” Akechi criticized, “Do you even know a thing about mixology?”

“Not a clue.”

“Then what did you intend to give me?! I'm not a guinea pig!”

“Haru knows how to mix drinks.”

“She... What?” Akechi definitely never pegged Haru as someone who would enjoy alcohol.

“She and Yusuke were experimenting with drinks last year,” Akira added, “ Apparently Yusuke has the makings of a great food critic, despite the fact that he's naturally rather frugal. I doubt he'll make any career changes over it, but Haru values his input for her restaurants.”

“I see,” Akechi mused, “They really are a strange pair.”

“The same could be said about us,” Akira mentioned, “At one point, you despised me.”

“The jury's still out on that one.”

A smile stretched wide across the raven's face, “I do love your wit, even if it's cruel.”

“Masochist.”

“You would know~”

“Disgusting.”

“...Ly sexy?”

“You're exhausting sometimes, you know that?” Akechi reached for a cornet. Akira kissed his cheek.

“You wouldn't have me any other way,” Akira placed the rest of the sweets on a tray and wrapped it neatly in plastic wrap before placing the whole affair in the fridge. Akechi absentmindedly lapped at the custard filling in the cornet, his gaze drifting over to the painting of Sayuri hanging on the wall. It really was such a simple piece. Yet the expression in the woman's eyes, once shrouded in mystery, struck something in Akechi every time he saw the painting. He'd never been one to romanticize art, like Yusuke, but that didn't stop Akechi from getting lost in how the long lashes fell over the woman's eyes. A look that was neither joyous, nor sad, a gentle contrast to the soft smile on her face.

It occurred to Akechi that this wasn't the first time he'd seen that expression on a woman before.

He sighed deeply, taking a hefty bite from the cornet. It bothered him a bit that he was so quick to have a melancholic response to the painting. It always seemed to bring Yusuke euphoria and inspiration to become better, but all it did was remind Akechi of a darker time in his life.

_Mommy looked so sad before, but she was smiling so..._

The memory surfaced without him willing it too.

_She said she'd come back for me after work, but it's getting really late now isn't it?_

He could almost feel the lukewarm water of the large bath house tub around him. Everyone had already gone home for the night, and the foot traffic outside had started to die down as the trains stopped running.

_She doesn't normally work this late. Maybe I should go home, but..._

He remembered sitting in the tub so long that his skin fingertips and toes had long since become pruned, and his hair had dried completely from being above water, no longer sticking to his face as it had been before.

_“Hey kid,” the attendant called for him, “It's almost midnight. You should start getting dressed.”_

_“Y-Yes, Sir...”_

_I guess there's no helping it._

The walk home that night scared him. He was used to being alone at the bath house, but he'd never walked alone in Shinjuku before, much less at night. He half-heartedly wondered if that night was the reason he'd refused to walk through Shinjuku alone at night to this day. He could clearly remember the hushed whispers of onlookers as he passed by, and it wasn't long until he was pulled aside by two police officers.

_“Where are your parents, kid?”_

_“My mommy's at home. I-I'm going there now from the bath house.”_

_“A little late for a bath, isn't it?”_

_“I'm sorry, Sir...”_

_“We'll escort you home.”_

_“There's no need for that, I promise.”_

_One of the officers knelt in front of him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder._

_“I have two daughters at home,” the officer began, “One of them is about your age. I'd be devastated if something happened to either of them while walking alone at night. I'm sure your mommy feels the same way. I promise I won't ask any questions or bother either of you needlessly. I just want to make sure you get back to her safely. Is that okay with you?”_

_Akechi nodded shyly, “Okay...”_

_“We should really be taking him to the station Niijima-san,” the other officer piped in, “Whatever situation that lead a young boy to be alone at this hour can't be good news.”_

_“Police officers are meant to help people,” the officer chided, “Not to judge their circumstances.”_

_“Of course, Sir,” the other sighed, “You're too soft for your own good, though.”_

They'd escorted him home that night. When they found that the door to the apartment was locked, they knocked for a few minutes, calling out to his mom inside. There was no answer. The officers spoke in hushed tones to each other before the kind one took Akechi back down the hall. Akechi recalled hearing the sharp crack as they turned the corner, indicating that his front door had been kicked open. A few minutes passed with the kind officer sitting with Akechi, talking with him about things he couldn't remember now. Their conversation was cut short by the officer's radio crackling to life.

_“Sir...” Akechi heard the other officer say over the radio, “We... We have a 10-56...”_

_“Please tell me it's an A,” the officer responded._

_“Negative, Sir. It's an actual 10-56.”_

_The man's expression darkened as he glanced over at Akechi. Akechi didn't know what they were talking about, much less why the officer had such a weird expression._

_“...Copy that.”_

Akechi sighed, running his hand through his hair. Why was he thinking about that? The memory caused him so much pain, He hated it. It'd be better it it just burned in hell like the rest of it all.

_“I bet your mommy's burning in hell!” a child sneered. A group of orphans had cornered Akechi in the hall of his new home. It certainly didn't feel like a home, though..._

_“She wouldn't,” Akechi sobbed, “Mommy was a good person.”_

_“She killed herself!” one of the kids mocked, “People who kill themselves go to hell!”_

_“And where's your daddy? Did he kill himself too?”_

_“I...” Akechi stammered, “I've never met him.”_

_One of the girls gasped, “He doesn't have a daddy!”_

_“That means his parents never got married,” a boy sneered._

_“So you're gonna burn in hell, too!”_

_“I-I'm not! I'm a good person too!”_

_“Your birth is a curse that takes you to hell!”_

_“You're a bad person and no one wants you! Your mommy didn't even love you!”_

_“That's not true!” Akechi hiccuped, rubbing his eyes on his sleeve._

All that remembering this did was fill him with complex feelings of anger and sadness alike, and the memory was nothing more than useless to him. He should just forget about it entirely. It's for the best. He hated it. It hurt him. It disgusted him. It didn't belong anywhere in the recesses of his memory.

_“I don't belong anywhere.”_

_Akechi held his his knees to his face, sitting in his new bed, lumpy and uncomfortable just like the rest of the “new beds” he'd had. With each passing year came a new orphanage. A new “home” for him. A new “fresh start.” A new opportunity for something better. Yet the more this happened, the more daunting the task of reaching out became. What was the point of reaching out to anyone when they would all be gone by the end of the year? It's not like he had any common ground with these people, since he didn't know anything about them to begin with. Only that they were orphans like him._

_It was a strange sort of loneliness. Even though he was surrounded by people wherever he went, he knew in the end that it didn't truly matter if he left. Everyone will move on without him. No one needed him around. He was easily replaced. His heart ached more and more as he grew more despondent._

_“If no one needs me, or wants me, then why am I still here?”_

_“What am I waiting for?”_

“Goro?”

“Huh?”

Akechi snapped back to reality. Akira was looking at him, concern spreading across his features like wildfire.

“Are you okay?” Akira inquired, “Your eyes look a little dewy.”

Akechi reached up with his free hand, dabbing the pad of of his middle finger to his eye in confusion. Sure enough, he felt the cold remnants of tears forming on his lashes.

“H-Hey, you shouldn't touch your face you know.”

“O-Oh,” Akechi flinched slightly in realization, “Sorry...” he brought his hand back down to his lap, “I'm fine, I promise.”

“It's nothing you need to concern yourself about.”

“Another passing whim?” Akira asked, trying to lighten the mood more than expecting an answer.

Akechi sighed, “I guess you could call it that.”

Akira's felt his chest tighten at the tone of Akechi's voice. It was flat, longing and almost pained sounding. Akechi gently placed his pastry on the counter, before slowly making his way to the bathroom door.

“I'm going to go dry my eyes,” He said softly, “I'll be back in a moment.”

“O-Okay...”

Akechi closed the door behind him, then glided over to the sink opposite him. He grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and dabbed it against his eyelids. He gazed up into his reflection. He really did look like his mother... His eyes looked just like hers, but with an expression unlike hers. His eyes were glossed over with a glimmer of something that was somewhere between sadness and cynicism. He narrowed the crimson orbs. His eyelashes were still damp... Akechi squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the lids against the the scratchy material.

********************  
**THIS PART IS A LOT MORE GRAPHIC AND DEPRESSING!!! Please skip past it if it will trigger you!!!**  
********************

_The knife clattered loudly as the blade hit the tile of the bathroom floor. Akechi's head slumped down, and he gripped the sides of the running sink for support. He stared deep into his eyes, the reflection fractured by the shattered mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, and he could see the streaks of tears glistening prominently against his cheeks, flushed from what he supposed was from the steam rising from the water._

_Why couldn't he just do it?_

_No one was awake at this hour, They'd long since gone to sleep. There was no one to stop him. No one to care enough to stop him. No one could interrupt him with their quixotic pities, nor their selfish desires to preserve their consciences. It should be so easy. So effortless..._

_So why?_

_What was he waiting for?_

_Akechi sighed, turning the knob for the water before rolled his right sleeve back into place. If he ended it here, he would just be another bastard child of a whore to disappear. He would be another statistic... He didn't want to become what people expected of him. He didn't want to give them the satisfaction of being right. He had to become more than what he was, and if life was going to deal him a shitty hand, he would play it until he had something better. “Fake it until you make it,” was the phrase, wasn't it?_

_Fake it..._

_He had to become more._

_He had to change._

_Maybe then, he'd find his future._

********************  
**IT'S SAFE AGAIN NOW!!! You can come back!!!**  
********************

Akechi pulled the towel away from his face. The wet spots had stretched farther than he'd expected them to. His breath shuddered slightly. Had he started crying? He was so consumed in the memory that he hadn't noticed anything outside of it. Akechi bit the inside of his cheek. These thoughts were pointless. Those things have already happened. There's no use fretting about them now. He discarded the paper towel in the trash and turned on his heels, slowly turning the door knob.

Besides...

“Akechi-kun?” Akira perked up as Akechi emerged from the bathroom. Akechi closed the door behind him.

 _I already have a future,_ Akechi thought to himself, _And I couldn't have asked for a better outcome._

“My apologies,” Akechi's voice was softer than Akira was used to.

“Is something wrong?” Akira stepped toward the brunette.

“I'm fine,” Akechi rasped quietly.

The fact that he hadn't so much as glanced at Akira worried the raven.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Akira inquired.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Akechi quietly closed the space between them, snaking his arms around the raven's torso and nuzzling his face into the crook of Akira's neck.

The man who never asked or expected him to be more than Goro Akechi, and not the celebrity that people had believed him to be. The man that never asked or expected him to be perfect, and loved him despite every flaw he had. The man who's patience was so unfathomably stubborn that he forgave Akechi time and time again, even when Akechi wouldn't (and often times, couldn't) forgive himself.

The man who loved Akechi for being himself, however foolish he seemed to Akechi for doing so.

Akira wrapped his arms tightly around Akechi's frame, letting a hand rest on the back of the brunette's head, stroking his hair lovingly. Akechi absentmindedly toyed with the fabric of Akira's shirt, drinking in every second of the contact.

It was such a nice feeling after all; Being loved.

“Akira-kun?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” Akechi's voice was still unsettlingly quiet, “For everything.”

Akira eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion, “Of course.”

He pulled Akechi closer to him by the waist, “Are you sure nothing's wrong”

“Just some bad memories...” Akechi's voice trailed off.

Akira sighed softly, “Quarantine has that downside. You're stuck with your thoughts... But you're not alone as long as I'm here.”

Akira trailed his hand to Akechi's face, gently nudging Akechi's chin up to meet his gaze, “If you ever want to talk about anything that's on your mind, I'm here. I'll never leave you when you need me. Alright?”

Akira's expression was earnest, eyes kind and warm despite their steely coloration. There wasn't a trace of insincerity, no matter how long Akechi searched the dark pools laid before him.

 _He'd never abandon me..._ Akechi thought to himself, _But, is it really okay to open up to him about this?_

Akechi nodded, “Okay.”

“Good,” Akira smiled, placing a kiss on Akechi's forehead, “You don't have to unless you want to. I'll wait until you're ready.”

Akechi nodded again, “Thank you, Akira.”

“Anything for you, my little bird~”

“Ugh,” Akechi cracked a slight smile, “Don't ever call me that again.”

“Aw, you don't like it?” Akira slipped both of his arms around Akechi's waist, tugging him closer, “I thought it was pretty cute.”

“I think I'll take that drink from you now.”

Akira cocked his head to the side, “I can't tell if you're joking or not.”

“Your intuition was right,” Akechi began, “Plus, there's no real harm in a single drink. Unless it's disappointing, that is.”

Akira chuckled, “Well then, I'll try not to screw it up for you. But only you, don't go spreading rumors that I'm some amazing bartender.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” Akechi smiled. Akira could tell by the wrinkle on the bridge of Akechi's nose that he wasn't faking a smile for his sake. The knots in his stomach loosened a bit. Still... Something was very off about Akechi. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Akira just needed to put his trust in him, as he always had before.


	3. After All pt. 1.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More on Akechi's backstory and more little shorts of fluff to cleanse the palate. Also, headcanon, Akira plays Animal Crossing during quarantine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like reading interpretations of Akechi's backstory, you'll like this. Some little shorts of fluff to cleanse the palate between teenage Akechi being... Not the most stable or level-headed boy out there. I promise that we'll get to a point where I'm not constantly splitting the chapters, but I think that style is working for these ones.
> 
> SOME VIOLENCE AHEAD, because how can we have Akechi and not have a violence tag, amirite?

“Akechi-san,” the knock came at his door during the late afternoon hours. The sunset poured through his open window, igniting the room in the amber glow of twilight. Akechi sighed, carefully laying his pencil down next to his pile of homework before standing up and padding to the door of his uncomfortably tiny room.

He opened the door, “Yes?”

“You have a visitor.”

“Oh?” Akechi tilted his head, voice soft and sing-songy, “I don't recall inviting anyone to see me. Have they stated their business?”

“They're here for an interview with you.”

Had Akechi not been masking his disdain, he might have been more harsh with the small woman standing in his doorway. However, such attitudes had gotten him nowhere in the past.

“That's rather odd,” he began, “I don't remember an interview being in my schedule, much less this late in the day. Are you sure it's for me?”

“They requested you specifically, I'm afraid,” the woman said, “I'm sorry it's such short notice, but they were insistent that it be today.”

“Oh,” _They just can't wait to be rid of me, can they? You would think they'd be a little more subtle. At least schedule an actual fucking appointment..._ “In that case, is my school uniform suitable enough? I'd hate to make them wait longer than they have to.”

“Of course!” the woman smiled, “It highlights your charms as a diligent student, Akechi-san.”

 _I didn't do that for you,_ Akechi sneered internally, the smile on his face was a sharp contrast to how he was feeling. How did people keep this up for so long? Idle chat was exhausting and lacked any meaningful substance. It was so incredibly pointless.

“Perfect. Tell them I'll be down momentarily.”

\------------------------------

Akira slid a tall, thin glass over to Akechi, sat propped on his elbows at the bar and nursing his half-eaten pastry from earlier. Akechi stared quizically at the vibrantly green beverage his boyfriend bestowed upon him.

“What is this?”

“It's called a 'Matcha Hai,'” Akira explained.

Well, that explained the almost radioactively green hue.

“...What's in it?”

“Matcha,” Akira said matter-of-factly.

“Smartass,” Akechi snapped back, “What else is in here.”

“Alcohol.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Akechi rubbed his temple with his free hand, “You're insufferable, you know that? You've single-handedly shaved so many years off my life that I'm going to go gray at a young age.”

“I mean,” Akira trailed off, “I wouldn't mind you turning into a silver fox.”

“See? Insufferable.”

Akira chuckled, “Just try it. If you don't like it, I'll make you a Blue Hawaiian for your sweet tooth.”

Akechi rolled his eyes, an exasperated sigh forcing it's way past his lips. He brought the glass to his lips and took a slow, tentative sip of his drink. It was bitter, like matcha should be, yet also sweet and citric at the same time, with a fragrant after taste. The carbonation was refreshing, and the burn from the alcohol was surprisingly mild, manifesting more as a smooth, pleasant warmth than an harsh sting.

“Well?” Akira had been eagerly watching Akechi, searching the brunette's face for a reaction, positive, or negative.

“This is your first time mixing drinks?”

“Yeah,” Akira began, “Haru left me the recipe, but I've never made any before.”

“It's delicious,” Akechi smiled, “Thank you.”

Akira sighed in relief, a smile of his own spreading across his face, “You're welcome, my little bird.”

Akechi chuckled. Maybe the nickname wasn't so bad after all.

\------------------------------

Akechi tapped his knuckles firmly against the office door in front of him.

“Come in,” a man called out to him.

That was... odd. The head matriarch wasn't in...?

Akechi carefully turned the doorknob and let himself in. Sure enough, the room was empty, save for the table and chairs beneath the window, and a desk off to the side of the room, and the only other person besides himself was a man. He was at least twice Akechi's age, closer to three times his age, slender, well dressed, but not overtly flashy, a well-kept appearance. The man had one leg folded neatly across the other, hands clasped lazily together on the table in front of himself.

There was a cold air about him. Almost as though this was a business transaction rather than an adoption. Akechi was careful not to let his suspicions show on his face, and the teen closed the door behind himself just as quietly as he'd entered. Had the man's eyes not been trained on him, Akechi would have assumed that the man hadn't noticed him enter.

“It's so nice to finally meet you after all these years,” the man smiled, a plastic imitation of what a smile looked like, “Please. Have a seat.”

He gestured to the seat across from him. Akechi strode silently over to it, crossing his legs in an attempt to mirror the man, but placing his folded hands into his lap and relaxing slightly into the chair.

“My apologies, but...” Akechi began, “I'm afraid I don't seem to remember you. My memories of childhood are a tad foggy.”

The lie flowed from him as easily as breathing. The man seemed to buy it nonetheless.

“Forgive me,” he spoke, “I was an acquaintance of your mother's.”

“I see,” Akechi met the man's eyes with his own.

“It's a shame what happened. I'm sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“Truth be told,” the man began, “I've been looking for you ever since that night. I would have preferred it if you'd stayed with someone she knew rather than be subjected to the foster care system.”

Akechi felt uneasy about all of this. It was far, far too convenient that a man he'd never met before suddenly wanted to adopt him after all these years, and without even so much as a motherly figure in tow... It reeked of something Akechi hadn't wanted to be a part of.

“I do well enough for myself here,” Akechi said, “One must always have the determination to make the best of a bad situation after all.”

“That's very good to hear,” the man remarked, “You're very reminiscent of her, you know. Not just your looks, but your poise as well. She was quite the charming woman.”

Akechi's eyebrow twitched, obscured from the man by the bangs falling over his forehead. He didn't like that this man, this stranger, was speaking so casually about his mother, let alone her looks.

“Pardon my prying,” Akechi spoke, “But where's your wife? Isn't it customary for the couple to both want to see the child they're adopting?”

“She's working late today,” the man said, “She trusts my judgment, though.”

Akechi's eyebrow twitched again. He found that statement to be unlikely.

“How did you know my mother?” Akechi mused aloud, “I've always wanted to know more about her.”

 _Take the bait,_ he could hear his inner voice loud and clear. If this man slipped up, he might be able get some answers.

“We were colleagues at work.”

Akechi's blood ran cold. Colleagues? Then surely, the man sitting in front of him had known the truth about his mother. Either that or he was lying, but what reason would he have had to fabricate a lie about them being colleagues? It would have been easier to say they were friends... Unless this man was banking on Akechi not knowing enough about his mother to know what she did for a living. He was hiding something.

 _What does he want?_ Akechi seethed internally.

“I see,” he shifted slowly in his seat, not wanting to alert the man in front of him of any changes, and unfolded his hands in his lap. He had officially lost all trust in the man before him, and he had to prepare himself for any opening that might arise. Whether it be to escape, or to attack.

Akechi bit the inside of his cheek slightly. He'd secretly hoped to be able to attack the man, should the opportunity arise.

\------------------------------

Akechi leaned his head back to rest on the door, propped open to let some fresh air in from outside. This was an important daily ritual for he and Akira. They'd sit in front of the doorway, soak in what little sun that would spill into the foyer, and maybe read or play chess depending on their mood. Today, Akechi was just content to gaze at the clouds passing by, left arm propped up on his knee and second glass of Matcha Hai hanging from his fingertips. Akira sat in the doorway next to and across from him, eagerly tapping away at the buttons on his Switch.

“Pan me?” Akira said.

Akechi tore off a piece of melon pan from the plate between them and held it up toward the raven at eye level. Akira leaned forward and took the fluffy morsel between his teeth gratuitously, “F'ank you.”

“Don't mention it,” Akechi responded, lapping the sugary residue from his fingertips nonchalantly before taking another sip of his drink, “At least since there's no one on the backstreets now, there's no one to say shit like, 'Aw, they must be really close friends,' whenever I feed you.”

Akira cheeked the bread before speaking, “Yeah. That gets kind of annoying after a while.”

“Honestly,” Akechi grumbled, “You would think that people have never seen a couple being casual with each other.”

“It's not gay enough,” Akira swallowed before speaking again, “We can't possibly be in a relationship unless we're constantly fucking the shit out of each other.”

“Clearly,” Akechi agreed sarcastically, “At the very least, displaying uncomfortable levels of intimacy.”

“Speaking of gay,” Akira continued, “I just got Raymond as a villager.”

“Oh?” Akechi took another sip of his drink, “That was awfully quick. I thought you told me he was rare.”

“Oh, I just bought him online,” Akira explained, “I don't have the time, miles, or patience to search for him.”

“I'm glad you found your cat husband.”

“Excuse me, Sir, he is my _SON._ ”

“Does that make me the father?”

“Yes,” Akira said, “You'd love him. He wants to be an actor.”

“Ah, yes,” Akechi said, “I've always hoped for my future son to be a disappointment.”

Akira gasped dramatically, “You take that back! What awful thing to say about our child's dreams!”

“Such a doting mother.”

“Actually,” Akira pondered, “I think you'd be the mom. You do have those wide hips and a fantastic ass after all.”

“Thank you?” Akechi's brows furrowed, “I think? I took up cycling for quite some time in my teens. It was cheaper than taking the train to school at the time.”

“Thaaat explains it,” Akira sighed whimsically, “In any case, I'm very appreciative~”

“...You're still going on about my ass, right?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely.”

Akira glanced up at Akechi, smirking when he saw how Akechi was throwing daggers at him. A small chuckle rumbled in his throat, erupting into a full on laugh as Akechi kicked his foot repeatedly in defiance. Not hard enough to hurt, just make a point. Akechi was awfully cute when he was angry, and Akira relished in every opportunity to get a small rise from the brunette.

\------------------------------

“After you,” Akechi smiled, stepping to the side and gesturing for the door, “I'd be happy to escort you to the entrance as well, if you'd like.”

“That won't be necessary, but thank you,” the man said.

He walked past Akechi, motioning for the door. Akechi followed behind him, slowly at first until the man was facing completely away from him. Then, with near breakneck speed, Akechi leapt forward, like a snake striking an unsuspecting rodent. Akechi caught one of the man's wrists and forcefully yanked it back, then tackled the man to the ground. As Akechi hovered above him, wrist pinned squarely between the mans shoulders and knee digging into the man's lower back, he withdrew the knife he'd always kept in his pocket, flipping it open and placing the point at the base of the man's skull.

“Make any sudden movements or scream,” Akechi's voice shook angrily, but maintained a hushed tone, “And I'll make sure you're a vegetable or _worse_.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Kid?!” the man exclaimed quietly.

“I do believe you're not in the position to ask questions,” Akechi remarked coldly, “So, you'll answer mine.”

“O-Okay, okay, just don't hurt me!”

 _How pathetic,_ Akechi's eyes narrowed.

“Who sent you here, and why?”

“M-My boss!” the man winced, “He said this would be an easy recruitment job. Offered me a lot of money if I brought you back and trained you properly.”

“Trained me for _what?_ ” Akechi seethed, shoving harder against the man's wrist.

“Auuggh!” the man grunted in pain, “B-Boss wanted you to work for him! Your- OW! Your mom was his most popular girl before you were born! She brought in a lot of high profile clients because her looks were ambiguous, and he was pissed when she lost her value.”

“Lost her value?!” Akechi dug his nails into the man's wrist, the blade beginning to draw blood from the pressure against the man's neck, “My mother wasn't an object!” he growled.

“H-Hey!” whimpered the man, “I'm just following orders! Please!”

Akechi grimaced, reducing the pressure from his knife and nothing else. It'd be bad if he lost his bargaining chip so soon. He still had questions.

“You said she brought in high profile clients?” Akechi's voice had leveled out slightly, “Who was seeing her before she got pregnant?”

“Some politician, I don't know,” the man whimpered, “He's a cabinet member now! M-Masayoshi Shido, I think...”

“You _think?_ ” Akechi snapped, “Are you willing to bet your life on a hunch?”

“N-No!” the man sobbed beneath him, “I-I'm sure it was him! Bald, facial hair, glasses! He had some really specific standards and your mom fit the bill, so he requested her often around then!”

 _Masayoshi Shido,_ Akechi committed the name to memory.

“See? That's not so hard, now is it?” a gleeful smirk spread across Akechi's face, “Now... I'll let you go if you agree to my terms.”

“Anything!” the man stammered, “Whatever you want, you can have it!”

“I want you to walk out the front door,” Akechi spoke, voice having finally returned to normal, but lacking any cheeriness to it. There was no need for theatrics when you've already threatened someone's life, “You won't cause any kind of distress or commotion. You're going to tell your boss that I'm off the market. I don't care what excuse you use as long as it takes me completely off of his radar. You and your associates are never to approach me again, is that understood?”

“Y-Yes, Sir! You're crystal clear!”

“Good,” Akechi purred cruelly. He could get used to being the one in control like this, “And if you so much as breathe a word about assault to the police, I'll make sure that you're all dragged down for running a prostitute chain. I know exactly where you operate from after all. You wouldn't want things to get messy, would you? Assuming the police don't find you before I do.”

“No, Sir!”

“ _Perfect._ ”

Akechi let the man loose, swinging his leg off and watching him scamper away like a bumbling fool. The man stumbled to his feet and began to fumble with the door knob.

“Oh, and by the way...”

Hearing his voice, the man's head swiveled to face Akechi, the panic not completely gone from his face. Akechi smiled sweetly, snapping his knife closed and twirling the handle between his fingers.

“Tell the Missus I said 'Hello,' would you?”

“Tch...” the man scoffed, voice still trembling, “You're insane, you cocky little brat!”

Akechi chuckled when the door slammed behind the man, wholly satisfied with his actions, but moreso relieved that his suspicions were well deserved. Based on the interaction he just had, Akechi assumed that the same people who had forced his mother into prostitution had probably planned on making him into one himself from the moment she died. It was an almost poetic twist of cruel irony. Perhaps, Akechi pondered, they'd assumed that being an orphan for a while would break him enough that he felt like he had no other choice than to do whatever they wanted him to...

It's too bad that he refused to be controlled.

And he'd be damned if he was going to let anyone try.


End file.
